


Distance

by Pr_Anx



Series: Jak and Daxter Collection [2]
Category: Jak and Daxter
Genre: M/M, just pointless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 09:14:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3482696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pr_Anx/pseuds/Pr_Anx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the distance that scares him, the fear that Jak could die at any moment and Daxter would have to live with the knowledge he'd never said those three little words.  He's scared, but the courage is there, along with the words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distance

**Author's Note:**

> Date Written: 5/20/2005
> 
> Just like with every fic in this series, I had no beta and this's barely edited. 
> 
> Sorry in advance.

Daxter sat back in the booth at the back of the bar, communicator in hand, as he waited for Jak to finally call. The blonde had been called to Spargus for yet another bout of bandit-hunting fun, leaving Daxter to bar-sit the N.O. while Tess was on a short vacation.

An hour after his departure, and Jak had already called a total of four times. Daxter understood the blonde's paranoia - it being the first time apart in nearly six years, and Dax was prone to getting into a bit of trouble without Jak- but four times was a bit much, especially since Jak wasn't even in Spargus yet.

Suddenly his communicator let out a high-pitched procession of beeps, nearly making Daxter jump out of his skin. His thumb instinctively went to the answer button long before his brain caught up.

"Hey, Dax." Jak laughed over the line. "It only took one ring for you to answer this time. You must've been waiting." Daxter nearly pouted at that, but then he remembered that A) Jak wouldn't be able to see it, and B) pouting was defiantly not a manly thing to do.

"Yeah, yeah, blondie, you just keep makin' fun of me and see where it gets you when ya get back." He responded instead. There was a sudden bout of gunfire before he could continue. "Sounds like you're having a fun time at the beach." 

Jak let out a scoff as soon as the gunfire subsided. "Yeah, we’re having a _ball_ here. I think Sig's working on his tan as we speak, and the men are just shaking sand out of their shorts. Wanna say hi?" 

Daxter didn't have a chance to respond before the sound of the comm. being taken from Jak cut him off.

"Hey, chili," Sig's booming voice burst through the speakers. "Hows it hangin' in the city that always sleeps?" 

"Hey there, tall dark and bald! Hear you guys are workin’ on your tans?” Sig let out a barking laugh.

“Oh yeah, you know it. Say, you better talk to your boy, chili.” There was an indignant shout from Jak, but he went ignored  
“He bein’ mopey?”  
“Since we left. Boy’s been twitchy and keeps flippin’ out his communicator.” Daxter smiled, the sentiment clearly going to his head. 

“Aw, poor lug. Patch me back over to him, will ya’?” The Wastelander ten-four’d and –by the sound of it- tossed the comm. back to Jak.

“Ignore him, Dax, the sun’s going to his head.” Jak spoke up as soon as the device was back in his hands.

“Sure, big guy. I’ve got about five minutes before I have to open the bar and I’m gonna spend it talkin’ you outta your gloomy mood.” He tried to make it sound indignant, but he was sure it came out a bit a bit less so than intended if Jak’s chuckle was anything to go by.  
“I’ll be fine, Daxter, you know I will, so stop mothering.” Daxter rolled his eyes. Good job, pot. Calling the kettle black again.  
\---  
They ended up talking for nearly half an hour before the red head remembered the bar –and more importantly, the possibility of angry customers possibly waiting outside to pummel him for making them wait for so long.

Daxter let out a sigh after a momentary staring match with the clock above the bar. A long, drawn out, world-weary sort of sigh that had Jak laughing and Daxter nearly pouting again.

“I’m guessing that means it’s time to open shop, huh? We’re nearly done here, so we’re heading to Spargus. I’ll call again before we reach the city, okay?” 

“I know, Jak. I’ll be waitin’ for your call in about ten minutes.” Jak let out another scoff. “Just be careful, blondie, ain’t no tellin’ what those bandits are up to.”

“I’ll clear’em up and be home in time for dinner, dear.”

“Don’t get snarky with me, buddy boy, or you’ll find a not-so-nice surprise in said dinner.”

“That’s not very nice, Dax. I’m out here working my butt off to bring home that dinner you’re poisoning.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Just don’t fall for another pair of blue eyes while you’re there.” 

“Dax?”

“Yeah, Jak?” Daxter knew what was coming next, every call ended just like every night started; with the words Daxter was too scared to say, and for very good reason. 

Daxter, by nature, wasn’t an openly self-conscious individual. He could flirt with the best of them –though he was, of course, the best there was at everything in his opinion- but to say those three damning words would tip the scales against him. It would mean more pain if Jak _did_ die out there. 

Jak would say _I love you, Dax_ and mean it with every fiber of his being, no regrets, no worries about tomorrow’s agenda, no stressing over the fact that they could die at any moment. 

“I love you.” It was a silent, tense moment before Daxter could muster up enough self-esteem and courage to respond, using those words he’d been too scared to say before –because love wasn’t something that happened to Jak and Daxter. 

It happened to people who had nothing to lose, no reason to fear saying that phrase and turn around to find out your boyfriend was killed by some stupid creature with a gem in its head.

But, as of this moment, Daxter knew two things to be true. One, Jak could be killed by bandits and leave Daxter with the knowledge that he had the chance to give the hero that little extra boost with a simple return. 

And two, he had spent two years skittering about under the KG’s radar, making a name for himself, just so he could save that one person who made him feel like he was worth more than anything in the universe. The _least_ he could do to repay that person for the months of cuddling and whispered promises was say those three fucking simple words.

“I love you too, Jak.” And he meant it. And he could almost feel Jak’s smile from that simple sentence, could almost feel Jak’s heart leaping through the torn and broken device. 

And, at that moment, the distance between them felt smaller.


End file.
